


Whiplash

by Simplistically_content



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Psychological Trauma, Stiles has his own way of dealing with thing, mentions of torture, past demon!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4244160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simplistically_content/pseuds/Simplistically_content
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles. The Winchesters. A hunt.<br/>Things don't get off to the greatest of starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiplash

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't end up as I'd intended it to end up but I'm still fairly satisfied with it and the slight potential for expansion.  
> I hope y'all enjoy it :)

_“You know this isn’t really the life I’d have chosen for you,”_ his dad tells him one afternoon as Stiles sits with his back to a no-tell motel headboard through a Skype video call across a shitty wifi connection that _barely_ lets them keep each other in a semi-pixelated state. Stiles insisted phone calls would be better but his dad claims his desire to ‘see’ his son is still alive and well is deeply ingrained and cannot be appeased by the mere sound of his voice.

Stiles told him to stop using a dictionary to get himself to sleep.

“You remind me at least once a month,” Stiles replies, manfully suppressing the eyeroll he could feel about to come up. “Still here, still human and hey, I probably saved more lives this month than you have in the last three...” his dad isn’t so restrained and Stiles watched the image of the man freeze as his eyes were mid-roll. He snorts at the image and quickly screencaps it before the connection picks back up. “Look, I love you but I’m kinda in the middle of a case...” He immediately cursed himself for revealing that particular titbit of information as his dad’s eyebrows raise together, his expression telling Stiles to explain. “I’d love to talk to you about it but I’ll be having a guest soon and you don’t wanna make me out to be a bad host, do you?” He quickly says his goodbyes, promising to send daily photos with dates and/or times in the background/foreground and cuts the connection just in time for a knock to sound at the door of his room. He closed and stuffed his laptop (carefully) under his bed, mindful of the wires, before picking up his gun and approaching the door.

_“Come on, Stilinski! Open the damn door already!”_ a growling voice called out, muffled by the wood of the door and Stiles rolled his eyes, not bothering to put his gun away as he unchained and opened the door. “You done jerkin’ off and listenin’ to lonely hearts on AM Radio?” Stiles’ eyes narrowed a touch. “Hey, your words, man,” the guy staring at him smirked. Stiles forced himself to hold out for a few seconds longer before he snorted and took a few steps back, letting the door swing open, admitting one guest - and then a second.

“What the fuck is _that_ doing here?” Stiles had backed up even further and his gun was out aimed at the second guest’s head.

“Woah! Stiles! Calm down okay? We can explain-”

“Sam,” Stiles growled.

“I know! Okay? I know, but trust me. He’s good now-”

“Oh _now_ he’s good?” Stiles snarled.

“Can we cut this sho-” Stiles simultaneously shot in between the second guy’s feel and pulled a second gun from his waistband, aiming it at Sam before pulling the gun he’d fired back up at the other guy.

“Jesus- Stiles! Wait-”

“You realise you just lost your security deposit, right?” Sam turned to the guy and Stiles imagined a ‘shut the fuck up’ expression happening to provoke the raised surrendering hands he saw a second later before Sam’s attention was back on Stiles.

“Look, Stiles, he’s fine now. He’s healed. We cured him- I cured him, he’s human again, okay?” Sam looked so earnest that it almost made Stiles laugh.

“Sorry Sammy,” Stiles clucked his tongue, chiding. “You think I’m gonna just accept that shit on your word? You don't know half of what that psychopath did to me-”

“I know, alright? _I_ know. But Dean - Dean’s okay now. He’s human, I swear.”

“For crying out loud just salt me! Throw holy water in my face, slice me up with a silver knife,” Dean snapped, looking wary, annoyed and bored with the entire scenario but Stiles noticed he looked more than a little uncomfortable with the fact that Sam was between himself and Stiles’ very loaded, expertly aimed guns.

“Just give me a reason,” Stiles warned as Dean’s left foot inched forward.

“He walked straight through the Devil’s Trap,” Sam said finally, his eyes flickering back towards the doorway and up, Dean’s following half a second later. “Stiles, come on.”

“Sam,” Dean huffed and Stiles’ fingers twitched. “You gonna use either of those, use ‘em,” he growled at Stiles. “I did shitty things when I was a demon, I know I did, ain’t nothin’ I can do to take that back but I’m not a demon anymore.” Stiles continued to stare at the pair of them, expression set, guns aimed. “But you never broke when I had you strung up six ways from Sunday,” Stiles saw Sam wince and turn to give Dean another look that was pointedly ignored. “You didn’t give me a damn inch, and I’ve been trained by the best of the best of the absolute _worst_ in existence. Don’t you dare break now, don’t you give that demon the satisfaction of forcing you to take a human life.”

“Sammy,” Stiles said slowly, his voice low. Sam’s eyes shot back to Stiles instantly. “Get your brother out of my room before I put a bullet in him.”

“Stiles-”

“No,” Dean interrupted. “I get it. I’ll go back to our room... but you’re gonna need to get used to me being around,” he added to Stiles before walking in and out of the Devil’s Trap Stiles had painted earlier in clear varnish, and out of the room, closing the door behind him with a ‘click’.

“You gonna put the guns away?” Sam asked quietly, significantly less tense than he’d been seconds earlier.

“When I can convince my hands to not shake if I start moving them,” Stiles said, making Sam flinch before he allowed the taller hunter to carefully remove the gun he’d had in his left hand. He flicked the safety back on the one in his right and let his arm drop. “Why did you bring him here?” he asked as they took seats on the two beds in the room. “You _know_ \- Hell, _he knew!”_ Sam at least looked apologetic.

“He’s been good for a few weeks now and we needed... Garth said you were in the area and we could use another hand to deal with a nest of vamps. I knew he’d caught up with you when he was...” his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “And I knew he had you for a few days but you - neither of you - told me what happened. I don’t even know how you got free.”

“A fucking accountant in a trenchcoat zapped me outta there when Dean-o was out getting more supplies for torture-time,” Stiles snapped, wringing his hands together so tightly they turned white from the pressure.

“Cas?” Sam frowned. “Cas saved you?”

“I have no idea if it was your pet angel,” Stiles snarled. “He zapped in, looked around, healed me up good-as-new, zapped me back to my motel room and advised me to leave town lest your psycho brother come back for me. He _assured,”_ he used air-quotes for added emphasis. “-me that my hunt had been taken care of before he fucked off. He didn’t exactly stop for introductions!”

“Okay! Okay!” Sam held his hands up, trying to placate but Stiles just snorted. “It sounds like it was Cas... I just don’t know why he’d not tell me...”

“Maybe because he found me naked with the skin on my back... on the floor at my feet, my a-” he stopped as Sam looked like he was going to throw up but manfully remained seated. Despite the shred of conscience not wanting to get between Sam and his brother with everything that had happened, he couldn’t resist continuing a little longer. “Oh I’m sorry, did that upset your delicate disposition? Your brother, with 30 years of being Alastair’s bitch in hell, 10 years being his damn apprentice... another year honing his skills in purgatory and topping everything off with the damn Mark of Cain... does it upset you that he would take all that knowledge and use it on people like me?”

“Just...” Sam held a hand up again, eyes closed. “I know what he’s been through - I spent a thousand lifetimes with Lucifer and Michael in the cage... I know it all and more. I know what Dean’s capable of and I’m sorry, I wish I could do something, say something that makes it right but nothing ever will and you have no idea how fucked up that is, you can’t - You don’t-”

“Your brother _flayed_ me alive, Sam,” Stiles snarled. “He flayed me alive and f-” he stopped again, took a breath, and continued. “... and that was just the tip of the fucking iceberg, and you want me to work with him? To trust him at my back? Trust him-”

“No, I want you to trust _me,”_ Sam’s face was so open and expressive. Stiles choked back a laugh and ran a shaking hand over his face.

“I trust you, Sam,” Stiles said and raised his eyes to meet Sam’s. “Just not when it comes to your brother.” At Sam’s face, he moved to explain. “I was already on his radar _because_ of you... When he was a demon, when he had me, all he could talk about was how his little brother had me first... how he’d show me what a _real_ man was like...” Sam’s eyes widened and Stiles held back the wince. It was obvious, when both of them thought about it, he supposed, just what Dean had done but putting it into words made it all the more real. “He did so much and no, I didn’t break. I didn’t tell him anything he wanted to know about you or what I knew, where I come from - he wanted leverage over me but I didn’t give him a damn thing but fuck, Sam...” he graced Sam with a very open, raw expression that forced a torn one out of the other man. “He tore me apart over and over again. I was there for three days... it felt like three years.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered.

“You know I’ve been waiting for this to happen... when you called to meet I almost expected you to bring him but seeing him there, despite hearing about him being all human again... that shit doesn’t prepare you for the memories.”

“I know what you mean,” Stiles looked at the other hunter and gave a tiny nod.

“Yes, you do...”

“I shouldn’t have brought him here like that - should’ve talked to you first... eased you into it-”

“There ain’t no easing someone into being in a room with the dude who tortured him, Sammy,” Stiles laughed. “I’ve read your little fan club books,” he pointed out. “I know what Dean felt when Alastair entered that church, the only thing that pushed him into moving was you and the _threat_ to you. You already know how you felt when your wall started crumbling... then when your little angel friend tore it down completely.... There ain’t no easing into that.”

“That doesn’t really excuse it though, does it?” Sam asked and Stiles gave him a small smile.

“S’a good thing I’m used to nightmares, isn’t it?” The other man blinked at him.

“Wait - you’re... you just said you couldn’t work with him-”

“I said I couldn’t trust him. But I’m not stupid either. I’ve read the books, I’ve heard you wax lyrical about your hero big brother... I know there’s a good man in there somewhere, he just needs to prove himself. And I’m a little old to be running from things that scare me but don’t hurt me.”

“But he did-”

“You want me on this thing or not, Sam?” Stiles snapped and Sam’s mouth closed with a ‘click’.

“You’re giving me whiplash,” Sam murmured after a minute of silence.

“I have ADHD and I obsess about things as a coping mechanism. Move on.”

“So how do you wanna play this?” Sam asked and Stiles thought about it for a few seconds.

“I can make hollow point bullets and fill the tips with dead man’s blood... we can talk it and everything else through at breakfast - you’re buying.” Sam readily agreed and they both stood up.

“You need anything, give me a call, yeah?” Sam said as he moved to the door.

“We’ve got no time for what I’m needin’ right now,” Stiles snorted, giving Sam an exaggerated once over, making the taller man’s cheeks darken slightly. “You’re adorable,” he chuckled and opened the door.

“Maybe after the hunt,” Sam murmured with a slow grin that made Stiles let loose a bark of laughter that followed Sam out the door. Stiles, still chuckling, shook his head and closed the door, locking and chaining it quickly before moving to the window to watch Sam walk across the lot to one of the rooms opposite. Stiles noted the impala sat in the space outside the room Sam disappeared into and sighed.

He was giving _himself_ whiplash.

\---

“It’s not-” Stiles heard Dean’s voice sigh as he stepped out of his room the following morning, catching a glance at the pair of them before turning to lock his door. “It’s not - there ain’t nothing I can do to that kid, or for that kid, that’ll ever make what I _did_ right. You hear me, Sammy? Nothing. It’s his show, okay? I just... There aren’t words-” the voice stopped and Stiles realised the pair must have noticed his arrival. He turned when his brain caught up with the fact that he had his back to his torturer and his breath caught when he saw the pair looking across at him.

“You wanna come with or follow in your car?” Sam called out like there was any real possibility of Stiles getting in a car with Dean Winchester. So Stiles didn’t answer, just moved to his jeep and settled in behind the wheel. He took a few deep, calming breaths and turned the engine over before reversing out and turned to face the lot exit. He saw the brothers share a look, Dean giving Sam a ‘see what I’m talking about’ look complete with gestures before they too got in their car.

As they pulled into the lot of a drive-by diner just off the highway heading out of town and onto the interstate, Stiles’ cell rang, and it took every ounce of strength in him not to swerve the jeep into the verge. He parked quickly and pulled out his phone.

“Stilinski,” he sighed, cutting the engine.

_“You sound like you’re about to go to the gallows,”_ a familiar voice rumbled and he smiled.

“Always good to hear your voice, Ally, how can I help Argent’s finest today?”

_“Heard a rumour... Winchester is no longer a demon. You got an in with the younger one... what’s the word?”_

“You pick now to call me and ask me about this?” he frowned, looking through his windscreen to where Sam was stood leaning against the jeep’s front end. Dean could be made out through the window of the diner.

_“Only just got word myself. Dad was curious... he knows Garth sent them your way for a hunt...”_

“You only deal with stray weres, Ally,” he pointed out. “What’s a demon doing on your radar?”

“ _Winchester is a big name in hunting. We need to know if his connections are now the connections of anyone with less scruples...”_ Stiles opened his door and jumped out, closing and locking it with the key before even thinking about replying.

“You wanna know if Winchester gave away top secret hunter intel to the King of Hell while they were bunk buddies?” he asked and glanced to his left to where Sam had turned fully to face him. His jaw was set and eyes narrowed. Stiles got the message so much he rolled his eyes, giving Sam a ‘look’ that had the older man averting his eyes for a second.

_“We want to know if we need to add salt lines to our mountain ash...”_

“Salt lines are never a bad thing to have, Ally.”

_“Stiles...”_ she pressed and Stiles sighed.

“Well considering I’m about to be treated to breakfast with the Winchesters two, I’d say no, Demon Dean is no longer in the building. However I’ll be sure to ask him what, if any, names he dropped. You know... other than mine. And by the man’s own admission, I didn’t give him a damn inch.” Silence met his words and he started walking towards the diner, Sam not a step behind him.

_“Stiles, I’m sorry-”_

“Yeah, that seems to be going around a lot.” he sighed again. “Tell your guys that salt is their friend. Send them devil’s traps... get them into good habits for crying out loud. Were-centric or not, chances are you’re gonna meet some other nasties out there. I’ll let you know if anyone’s been compromised.”

_“Thank you... Call me later, let me know you’re okay.”_ he muttered a goodbye and put his phone away.

“Do you think he’d really give out the names of hunters?” Sam asked and Stiles gave him a look.

“Dude’s your brother. What do you think?” Sam looked troubled but not as much as he could have looked.

“I think he’s too much of a control freak to trust anyone, even Crowley, with information like that. He’d take care of the problem himself...” They walked into the diner and Sam led the way to the booth furthest from the door where Dean was already sat, menu already in hand. “But feel free to ask.”

“Thank you for your permission to make sure my friends are still safe,” Stiles drawled and Sam winced. “Dude, you gotta stop taking on blame for shit that is out of your control,” he sighed _again,_ which was really starting to annoy him.

“Family curse,” Sam shrugged, shoving Dean a foot further into the booth, closer to the window as he folded himself up so Stiles could have a seat to himself across from them.

“You mind?” Dean grunted.

“Not particularly,” Sam retorted easily and Stiles finally sat, his knees knocking against Sam’s.

“So, when your eyes were black and your soul looked worse, did you tell your demon buddies about any hunters you knew about?” Stiles asked outright and Dean predictably flinched, but eventually he raised his eyes from the menu to meet Stiles’ own.

“I did my own leg work,” he answered. “Ain’t nobody gotta worry about anything goin’ after ‘em off any intel from me.” His southern accent got stronger the deeper his voice got and Stiles stared him down for a long, tense minute before nodding once and taking the menu Sam had been holding out for him.

“Looks like you know your brother after all, Sammy,” Stiles drawled and his flicked his gaze up in time to see Dean and Sam share another ‘look’ and made him want to roll his eyes.

“Hey there, gents. What can I get-cha today?” Stiles looked up and saw a woman in a waitressing uniform stood at their table. She was average height, blonde, big chest, small waist... standard with a touch of demure that made Stiles smile a little. A touch too much make-up for his tastes but hey, who was he to dictate what a woman wore on her own face?

“Special, side of bacon and a coffee,” Dean answered first.

“Short stack with bacon and a coffee for me too,” Sam replied and Stiles echoed his order.

“Okeydoke,” the woman smiled at them all in turn. “I’ll bring your coffees out first for y’all.” And then she was gone.

_“Okeydoke,”_ Dean muttered and Sam snorted, shaking his head. He lifted his head again to look at Stiles. “You seem to be in a less... gun-toting mood today...”

“The day’s young, give me time,” Stiles said easily, not smiling, though Sam snorted again. “How about you try to keep yourself at the lowest level of douche bag you can manage...”

“Look, kid,” Sam sighed, his head dropping into his hands as Dean geared up for a speech but Stiles just waved a ‘shut up fucking now’ hand.

“The things you did to me...” he said, voice low and eyes narrowed. “You are the single... the _last_ person on the face of the planet right now who should be calling me ‘kid’. You were right earlier, no words are ever going to make this,” he gestured between the two of them. “Right. You can’t undo what you did - there is no ‘unringing’ the bell... your little dial-a-healer pet angel could heal 99.9% of the physical shit you did to me but he never touched what was in my mind, and he missed a pretty important bit of ink you mutilated, which left me wide open for an even bigger level of fucked up so no, there is no ‘look kid’, there is no talking... there’s this nest, and then I walk away. And you better believe the first I hear of you going all black eyes again, I’ll be the first one lining up to put a bullet between those pretty green eyes. Until then, all we have is my unbelievable, _unenviable_ ability to compartmentalise and as much time as I need to get used to looking at you without wanting to stab you in the face.” Dean stared at him and Stiles just knew it was killing him to not react defensively, like the old Dean would have, pre-demon Dean. But this Dean knew he deserved every single word and more.

“You can be angry,” Dean said, keeping his voice down as a young family took the booth behind Stiles. “You can be pissed as hell - _hell,_ I’ll even give you free reign to dish out any retribution you want after this hunt’s done.” He held a quick, staying hand to shut his brother up before Sam could draw breath to object. “I deserve it and more, I won’t fight you, I won’t stop you - and neither will Sam... but I need to know I can... _trust_ you at my back with this hunt. If not, I’ll call someone else in and we can pick this up at another time.” He and Stiles stared at one another for a long, silent minute, interrupted only by the cute waitress bringing them their coffees. “I need to know _Sam’s_ not gonna be constantly looking over his shoulder at the two of _us_ instead of keeping himself alive.” Sam rolled his eyes at that but didn’t object as he too turned to Stiles.

“I can be professional,” Stiles said with a slight nod and took a drink from his mug.

“So who was that calling earlier?” Sam asked curiously. “The one asking after Dean’s secret keeping skills...”

“Allison Argent,” Stiles said and both Winchesters eyes’ widened.

“As in... Argent...”

“Now McCall,” Stiles supplied.

“Married to the last True Alpha... Alpha of the strongest familial wolf pack this side of the Atlantic?” At Sam’s words, Dean’s eyes widened and he paled, beginning to look like he might throw up.

“You’re _that_ Stilinski...” he murmured, staring at Stiles with growing horror. “Why didn’t you use... I mean...” he couldn’t find the right words and Stiles’ smile was bitter.

“I would’ve made myself ‘useful’,” he reasoned and saw the Dean couldn’t fault his logic. “And if I’d have started, my control you praised me on last night? Would’ve shattered to pieces.”

“That’s why he wanted me to work you so hard,” Dean murmured and Stiles’ eyes narrowed. “I was a knight,” he explained, leaving out the ‘of hell’ part for obvious reasons. “Crowley... Crowley is the King. He gave me a list of targets... told me to get to them as and when. Said they were all _important_ in one way or another. Any information I got out of any of them would ‘help’ him in future... Your name was the only one I recognised, and that was from Sam’s dealings with you so I went to you first - but late on. But you didn’t break and not long after, Sam and Cas dragged me back...”

Their breakfasts arrived then so Dean stopped talking while Stiles and Sam mulled over what had already been said. For Sam it meant yet another scheme Crowley was cooking up that they would no doubt have to handle.

For Stiles it meant he was on the radar of the King of bloody Hell.

Well shit.

\---

“How’d you come up with this idea?” Sam asked back at Stiles’ motel room. Dean was stood behind the seat his brother was sat in, across from Stiles who took the second seat. The pair were watching him fashion the Dead Man’s Blood bullets with keen interest.

“Kate Argent - Well, the entire Argent clan actually,” Stiles answered.

“I met her once,” Dean said with a shiver. “She’s the kinda person parents should warn their kids about at night,” Stiles snorted.

“Bitch was a stone cold killer and a predator. She seduced a 16 years old kid into revealing a way into his family home before she burned the entire pack... minus the kid and his older sister, alive. Only their uncle managed to get free... younger sibling had snuck out apparently and found her way to South America but she killed 14 people because they were werewolves... or related to wolves.”

“Heard about that in college,” Sam murmured.

“Dad thought it was a ‘job well done’,” Dean sounded disgusted and Sam blinked back at him, shocked. “The second of two times I tore into him before he disappeared,” he shook his head, looking suddenly tired.

"And the first?" Sam asked and Dean just rolled his eyes.

"When do you think, doofus..." Sam turned back to Stiles, a small smile on his face.

"First time he got caught sucking a dick," Stiles lip twitched as Dean cuffed his brother around the head, Sam chuckling all the way.

"I'll have you know I never got caught," Dean huffed. "It was after you left for Stanford."

Despite everything that had happened; all Stiles' anger and his memories, seeing Sam and Dean acting like brothers made him smile slightly.

"So you're connected to the McCall pack?" Sam asked as Dean handed over a knife and a wet stone that Sam took without comment.

"Scott’s my brother - step brother if you wanna get technical," his eyes flickered to Dean warily. "This gets anywhere near Crowley..." Dean held his hands up again, placating. "His mom, my dad... got hitched about five years back. His dad's a douche who loves his job more than his kid- hated me and my bad influence as we were growing up. Scott was bit when we were 16. A whole lot of shit happened... and now we have  true alpha, a hunter heiress,  a kitsune, a banshee and... five betas? Also a Peter Hale, who we shall always reserve the right to kill. Long story," he added and Sam's lips twitched.

"All that fire power... how'd you avoid Eve when she was kicking it down here?" Dean asked, sounding torn between hunter and impressed.

"That's where I came in.  With my Spark. But it was a team effort. We can look after our own with the hunters that ignore the Argent’s claim over the land and all hunts therein..."

"We can put the noise out if our name will help," Dean offered and Stiles regarded him for a long moment before he hit the mount block on the table to fix  the bullet.

"Appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not sure how much weight your name holds right now,” Stiles admitted.

“Only hunter I tangled with was you,” Dean said slowly.

“It’s up to you,” Stiles shrugged as he finished another bullet. “Look, I’ve got another 18 of these to get through. Unless you’ve already found the nest, are you seriously gonna watch me make each and every one of them?” he looked between the brothers, eyebrow raised and Sam had the grace to duck his head slightly.

“We uh... after I left here last night we did a ride around. Got the nest location down, double checked the numbers. If we hit mid-afternoon, they’ll be sleeping.” Stiles eyed him.

“Next time, bring me a box of girl scout cookies while you’re at it,” he drawled, making Dean snort and Sam grin lightly. “How many all together?”

“14,” Dean answered, passing Sam another knife from wherever on his person, Stiles wasn’t going there.

“Jesus,” Stiles whistled. “Do they actually feed or just turn their food? Eesh!”

“Tell me about it. Average nest is 5, 7 tops,” Sam rolled his eyes. “This looks like two nest leaders got together and merged.”

“They got strength in numbers, no matter what time of day it is,” Stiles warned. “You sure us three are enough?”

“Anymore, the locals will get talky,” Dean reminded him and yeah, Stiles could understand that.

“Sometimes it pays to have an in with law enforcement,” he lamented. “My dad’s the Sheriff in our home town,” he added at their expressions. “These won’t kill them... most they’ve held a vampire down for was around 10 minutes. Their healing kicks in fast - not as fast as a wolf, but fast enough. Take one down, behead, move on... hopefully we won’t get ourselves turned into breakfast.”

“There’s a cure if you’re forced to ingest their blood,” Dean supplied. “But only works within 12 hours and only if you haven’t taken in human blood.”

“I think I’d like that recipe if you got it on hand,” Stiles reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook and pen, tossing it across the table to Sam. “If y’all don’t mind sharing,” he added with a feigned southern lilt.

“Sharing is caring,” Dean allowed magnanimously and Sam got to writing.

“Pass me Dad’s journal,” Sam held out his hand to Dean without looking back and the older Winchester frowned before rolling his eyes and handing the leather bound journal over. “Sharing is caring, right?” Sam smirked at Dean, or at least Stiles thought he did. He couldn’t really see when Sam turned his head. “Finish the blades?”

“Anything else, your highness?”

“You could give me a backrub if you wanted...” Sam was smirking and Dean levelled a narrowed eyed look at the back of his brother’s head, briefly catching Stiles’ interested look before shuffling forward to grab the wet stone.

“Get to work, bitch,” Dean muttered unnecessarily but instead of being offended, Sam was chuckling.

“Right back atcha, Jerk,” he retorted.

“Oh my god,” Stiles snorted. “I thought that part was embellishment...” Sam winked and went back to writing while Dean looked confused. “The books... Supernatural by Carver Edlund?” At Dean’s fierce scowl Stiles smirked. “I probably shouldn’t tell you that books after you go to hell were published online, should I? And things were described in finite detail,” he sighed. “They’re actually pretty good reference books if you get passed all the man pain and homoerotic subtext - that’s just hot,” he smirked as he hammed another bullet into it’s new jacket.

“Oh for crying out-”

“So you’re saying you and Sam...”

“Stiles,” Sam said and Stiles put on an innocent expression that had neither Winchester fooled. “Work.”

“You’re such a prude,” he said with an exaggerated eyeroll. “You’ll perhaps forgive me for trying to picture your brother in a slightly more favourable light than I have been to get through this hunt.” At Sam’s unsure frown, Stiles sighed. “I’ll keep my thoughts to myself,” he reasoned and Sam nodded, going back to his writing. Stiles caught Dean’s eyes again and raised an eyebrow.

The man looked somewhat lost... like he didn’t know how to take Stiles at all.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said without looking up, making Stiles grin before he went back to his own work. “He gives you whiplash, you’ll get used to it. At least he’s not pointing a gun at you anymore.” Dean grunted and got to sharpening.

“Buzzkill,” Stiles murmured.

“Slut,” Sam retorted, making Stiles grin.

\---

The dismantling of the nest was strangely straight forward.

They entered from three different points; Stiles had somehow managed to get the exit that had the most vampires nearby and he shot the five he could see, downing them all within seconds. He managed to decapitate two before a sixth, hidden in a dark alcove, came up behind him and bit down hard on his upper arm, unable to get to his neck at the angle it had. Stiles had swore, loudly and colourfully and had knocked the head away from his arm with the butt of his gun. He was too close to aim steadily and quickly and sure enough, the gun was knocked out of his hand. He groaned as he was sent flying into a pile of wooden pallets, the muscles in his back protesting to the treatment with painful emphasis - not that the vampire gave a crap. The thing came at him and pulled him up, holding him just above the floor, giving him little to no leverage.

“What gives you the right-”

“I give myself the right, dickbrain,” Stiles said smartly, unnecessarily, and headbutted the vampire hard, instantly regretting it as he was dropped suddenly, his head pounding.

_“Stiles!”_ he heard Sam shouting as the sounds of fighting came closer. Stiles picked up his blade again as the vampire shook away his own disorientation before he ran at Stiles, blinded by a rage that Stiles really should have been prepared for, but just wasn’t. In a last ditch effort to preserve his own life, he dropped to the floor and swung his blade at the vampire’s left calf. The force of the blow cut clean through the whole leg and the vampire let loose a screeching scream of pain.

The scream was blissfully cut off before the vamp could gather any momentum and Stiles looked up to see Dean stood above him, breathing hard and covered in blood, bloodied blade in one hand, bloodied gun in the other.

“Before my brain catches up with the moment,” Stiles breathed. “Fuck, that was hot.” Dean, for his part, snorted and put away both knife and gun before holding a hand out for Stiles to take. Stiles eyed it for a few seconds before slowly reaching out to take it. Grip secure, Dean didn’t yank Stiles up quickly, but helped him ease back into standing slowly, something Stiles was incredibly grateful for.

They were brought back to reality with the sounds of the still alive but incapacitated vampires stirring, their wounds beginning to heal, and the pair of them set about permanently incapacitating them.

\---

“How is this my life?” Stiles breathed sometime later as he nursed a beer. Sam and Dean were leaning back against the hood of the impala while Stiles reclined against his jeep. The vampire bodies had been burned on a pyre inside the building and the hunters had left quickly before they were caught by the fire department or a similarly question-heavy emergency service.

“You’ll feel better after a shower,” Sam assured and Stiles snorted but tipped his bottle in agreement.

"How's the head?" Dean asked and Stiles winces just thinking about it.

"I probably shouldn't sleep for a while," he admitted, waving away Sam's concerned expression. "I'll be fine. I've had worse..." Dean winced this time and Stiles snorted. "For once I'm not talking about you. Being a human in a werewolf pack has some risks,” he shrugged. “Especially with new threats crawling out of the woodwork once a month.”

“You sittin’ on a Hellmouth or something?” Dean asked.

“Something like that,” he gave both brothers looks. “We keep it safe - why do you think I’m out hunting as often as I am? Everything I take on, a few hunts notwithstanding, we received intel that they were heading to our home town. We’re proactive in our front line defense. It also makes for better inter-pack relations if we lend a helping hand every so often.”

“It’s as good a reason as any,” Dean tipped his bottle in a silent salute before taking another drink.

“So you heading west now?” Sam asked and Stiles made a face.

“There’s a lot of states between here and there... I’ll probably hit up a few hunts along the way. And you can be sure I won’t be calling on you for any assistance,” he gestured between the brothers with his bottle, making Dean smirk and Sam laugh.

“Yeah, I think we’re in like some folk tale or something - never hunt with, or go on prolonged multi-hunt excursions, with the Winchesters. Bad things tend to happen,” Sam admitted, looking slightly abashed through his amusement.

 

“Yo, Deano,” Stiles called after Sam had settled himself in the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean looked up as he had one foot in and raised an eyebrow. obliging and stepping back out again when Stiles gestured him over. He walked back so he was out of sight of Sam and waited until Dean appeared. “I’m not calling in your offer of physical retribution, call me stupid or naive, but I prefer my Sam Winchester’s to be on my side rather than trying to actively kill me,” Dean made an understanding face that made Stiles snort. “However,” he went on. “This thing... the list Crowley gave you... do you remember it? Remember who was on it?”

“Got it at home,” Dean admitted. “I was gonna get around to looking up the names, see what Crowley’s interest was but never got around to it.”

“Did he give any indication... anything on what he wanted from me? Or from anyone on the list?” When Dean took his time answering, Stiles frowned. “Covering for him now?” he asked but instead of biting back at the slight sneer in Stiles’ voice, Dean just shook his head.

“Just trying to word it right... he said get as much information as possible, by any means. He mentioned names, or rather, he told me to ‘get names’ - I don’t know if that means your family or your pack or other hunters or other magic users, but like I said before, you didn’t give me anything and whether it’s a comfort or not, I was - and still am damn impressed. You held your own against a Knight of Hell and you protected your secrets well.” Stiles stared at him for a long, considering moment, before finally he nodded. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“In the diner, you asked me if I’d given up any hunters locations or info... but you mentioned ‘when my soul was dark’...”

“That’s what happens when you become a demon - I figure with you it was an overload because it was so sudden. In hell, it takes years, centuries, but you died a human and woke up a few hours later a demon. That change took its toll and probably contributed to your less than rational thought processes and impulse control. After your pet angel healed me up I did a bit of research and it was the best theory I could come up with. Doesn’t take away what you did or what it did to me,” Stiles reminded Dean, who nodded. “But it’s a nod in your favour at the very least.”

“Can you send me your research so I can go over it?” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Sam’s too close, Cas is too blind, Crowley’s a dick... I want an, if not impartial then less partial to me than my brother’s opinion.”

“I can send it through... Trade you for that list of names?”

“Done.” The slight smile on Dean’s lips had Stiles’ own tipping up at the corners.

“Look,” Dean said after a few seconds, sighing and running a hand over his face. “What I did can’t be forgiven or forgotten, I know that - I accept that. But on the off chance this meeting up becomes semi-regular, I’d like for us not to start things off with gun-toting and threats... Can we get to a point where that happens?”

“Has your brother asked what you did to me yet?” Stiles asked in place of an answer and Dean shook his head. “When he does... you tell him nothing at all, and I’ll give your proposal a shot.” The older hunter looked visibly relieved and Stiles made an internal decision. Steeling himself, he held a hand out. Dean bit back a surprised gasp, unable to completely hide the surprise on his face before he reached out and took the proffered hand, shaking it firmly before releasing it.

“You’re a good guy, Stilinski,” Dean said and Stiles snorted.

“Tell that to my dad,” he smirked before sliding into the driver’s seat of his jeep. A wave later and he was peeling out of the area, leaving a dust cloud in his wake.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Come visit me on on [tumblr](http://askthecoconut.tumblr.com/) too :)


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